


Your Blue Eyes like the Ocean

by ectoBisexual



Category: Free!
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, College, Crushes, Denial of Feelings, Flirting, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Neck Kissing, Pining, Rated M for later Chapters, Rimming, Rin cries as per usual, Roommates, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Sooo much neck kissing, background reigisa because im reigisa trash, boys being dumb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-20 09:18:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2423441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ectoBisexual/pseuds/ectoBisexual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto is kind of in love with his best friend, and he also kind of doesn't realise it until they move in together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i don't wanna be your friend, i wanna kiss your neck

 [O](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zo6ef5TX8Ak)n the 9th of November, Makoto Tachibana almost kisses his best friend square on the lips, and it is the single most humiliating, horrifying, and liberating experience of his life.

They have been living together for a while. Before making the agreement to do this, they had sat down and discussed the details-- it was cheaper if they got a small place and split rent, they were used to spending a lot of time together and anyway, they would most likely be too busy with studies to get sick of one another. This made sense in Makoto's head at least; Haru was going to be spending most of his time in the pool under intense training, and he would have too much homework to become enthralled in the shorter's antics, whatever those were that might come about by being forced into confined living quarters. It was fine. It was going to be fine.

It doesn't happen like that.

Haru doesn't spend as much time at the pool as Makoto had previously thought, for one. On some days, sure, he's out of the apartment before the other is even out of bed and doesn't come home until dinner time, exhausted, to mutter some polite string of nonsensicalness, take his dinner from the fridge, and head straight to his room not to emerge again until the next day. When it happens for the first time Makoto is doing homework at the kitchen countertop and he thinks yes, excellent! This is just going as planned, and if Haru is content to be busy all of the time, then why can't he? They would still get to see each other on weekends, and he would still get to commit to his favourite task of taking care of his friend. Secrelty, of course; Haru didn't have to think about the fact that Makoto was starting on dinner early so that he would have something to eat when he came home, or question who it was running his baths and leaving him out coffee and painkillers in the mornings after particularly late nights of intense training. It would all work out for the best, this situation that they had gotten themselves into.

And then he discovers that Haru's training reigimes are... less than regular.

It takes him two weeks to work out the other's schedule. At first he thinks it's completely random, that most days he'll wake up and the other will be gone, and that others he'll scare himself silly when in the middle of cooking lunch suddenly he'll hear footsteps and realise that he's not wearing a shirt and Haru has been in the kitchen this whole time. Not that being seen without a shirt on, after all those years of swimming together, should matter, but it does; there's something about the low riding hem of his pants and peak of his boxers that is so much more intimate than a swimsuit, and he certainly knows that _he_ would have a problem with seeing _Haru_  dressed like this all the time. Not that he does see him dressed like this, ever; he can't remember the last time he saw the boy in anything other than jammers or jogging clothes.

He works out after a while that there is some order to the chaos-- that Haru does his intense, all-day training twice a week and does afternoon training sessions for two others, taking the other three off; Wednesdays, Saturdays and Sundays he spends mainly walking around the apartment, unsure what to do with himself. Sometimes he watches tv. Sometimes he scares Makoto on his way back from class when he looks up to their apartment window and thinks that there is a ghost in the kitchen, before it occurs to him that his fastidious roommate is just trying to do laundry again. Tugging sheets here and there. They don't talk much, even when they're both at home, and for a while Makoto thinks that this is just because Haru is tired all the time.

It's not.

The 9th is a Monday, one of the days Haru leaves early and doesn't come home until late. Makoto doesn't have class because it's a Monday; he wakes up nice and early, 8 o'clock, to do nothing much else but catch up on homework and organising his notes in front of the television to the tune of some bad infomercials. It's nice. Relaxing. Haru scares the crap out of him.

He's in the kitchen, shirtless, cooking mackerel. Makoto finds this out the hard way when he gets up to go and make himself a snack, and almost falls on his face at the sight of his otherwise perfectly silent roommate. How he didn't hear him making his way around the kitchen before this point is surprising enough, but on top of everything else, he's not wearing a swimsuit. Or jogging gear. He's got bed-hair and he hasn't bothered to change out of his pajamas, which, giving the time of year, is a pair of black boxers with patterned fish decorated festively across them. Makoto has to dodge narrowly so that he doesn't smack his face into a wall.

The sound of his large self falling dramatically into the kitchen startles Haru, and to accomodate the other spins around to raise both eyebrows at him. But Makoto is dumb, and when put in questionable situations his defence mechanism is always to go straight to his best friend; Haru spins to face him, Makoto panics and grabs both of his shoulders, and they both just kind of. Stand there.

Eventually, Haru speaks. "Um."

"You're not meant to be home," blurts Makoto. He still hasn't let go of Haru's shoulders; his grip isn't tight enough to hurt or anything, but it certainly is confronting. And Haru hasn't shrugged him off yet.

"I slept on my arm weird," he says in answer, gaze trailing below Makoto's face. "My coach says I should never come in with an injury, and my arm is too sore to swim on. I thought I would just take the day off." He continues trailing his gaze down the taller's body and oh God, when did Makoto's heart start beating fast? And why, for that matter? He laughs uncomfortably, ready to just spin out of Haru's grip and make some joke about being scared half to death by the sight of him, but instead his brain dies and his body decides to take control. His limbs lock in place, his gaze slams straight down on Haru's mouth and he loses the ability to speak.

Haru looks up after a moment and notices. "Makoto," he says. So it's not even an 'um' this time-- Makoto doesn't answer him, instead perfectly content just to stare at his mouth forever apparently, until a horrifying ten seconds later it occurs to him what he's doing and he flies out of Haru's grip and slams his shoulder into the fridge.

"Ow-- damn it, that--"

"You idiot," says Haru. Makoto's head whips around. To his surprise, his friend sounds-- not angry, but-- frantic, maybe. Haru sounds frantic. Makoto is so surprised by this that he says nothing when Haru, shirtless Haru, moves over and slides their bodies together.

It's just so that he can inspect his shoulder, but still. Makoto suddenly can't stop his heart from beating, his hands from sweating. Haru's hip is against his and his bare arms are brushing Makoto's forearms and his face is so close that he almost can't help but lean in slightly, even as Haru is feeling for the gives in the muscles over the reddening skin of his shoulder. As soon as he notices, Makoto pulls away, face catching aflame.

To his surprise, Haru becomes embarrassed, too. "You could have seriously hurt yourself,"  he mutters, looking away. "You're clumsy, you should be more careful. Idiot."

Makoto stares openly at him. Haru stands around awkwardly for a few moments more, as if unsure what to do with himself, and then remembers the fish suddenly and returns to his cooking. Makoto doesn't even know what to do with himself. He hides himself away in his room, too distracted to do homework. Haru slips some mackerel under his door around lunchtime but apart from that the two don't speak for the rest of the day.

 

Things become awkward after that, to say the least. Makoto doesn't know what he did. Rather, he figures it has to be a number of things, that he screwed up so tremendously in so many respects that he managed to butcher their friendship into an awkward de facto partnership. Haru starts treating him like a roommate, being mild and polite with him at dinnertime and retiring to his room before it's even late. Makoto notices that he's doing more homework than usual, reading up on famous swimmers and competitions at the kitchen table and immersing himself completely in his morning jogs just so that they don't have to eat breakfast together. He himself has to come home from one of his lectures because he can't stop thinking about Haru; he just ends up making himself tired, and he stares into the distance so determinedly that other students start to notice. So he goes home, lies on his bed, stares at the ceiling, and pretends not to hear Haru moving around the kitchen. Because it's a Wednesday. Of course it's a Wednesday.

Even as his birthday approaches he just can't seem to make himself relax. It intrudes his mind at the most random of places, like when he's doing groceries-- he couldn't have been leaning in to kiss Haru, right?-- or when he's in the middle of reading through his notes after his lecture on a Thursday\-- could he have been too touchy-feely with the boy prior to that happening? They don't go out of their way to make any effort not to see one another, but something certainly has changed. Makoto comes home on Friday to find that the food he left for Haru in the refrigerator has gone untouched, and that the boy instead brought home takeout for himself. Makoto makes a face. He's not sure why that offends him, but it does; and maybe it's just the fact that if Haru was going to be getting something else to eat he could have at least told him, and they could have eaten together. Makoto would have even made it his treat. (Not like a date or anything, but.)

He calls up Rei and Nagisa a few days before his birthday to tell them they have to come over and see him, and waits patiently on the other end of the line while Nagisa gets permission from his parents; Rei's mother is more open to the matter than Nagisa's, and only takes a phone call from Nagisa's house to agree to it.  Makoto is, again, unsurprised that he caught them together. If not at Nagisa's than it would have been at Rei's; the two have only been openly dating for three months, and already they're acting like a married couple. When he hangs up to go and find Haru to tell him, he's left the apartment. No note. Makoto leaves him one on the fridge and calls it a night way earlier than it is normal for an eighteen year old boy to call it a night, and falls asleep to the thought that he is definitely not angry at Haru for acting cold so close to his birthday.

 

Nagisa starts making jokes.

The first one happens because they're all sitting around the table. It's been almost a year now since they moved away for college, and they still don't have much furniture. Nagisa hauled a full sized coffee table and bedding set all the way up to Tokyo for this reason, and insisted they sit around it-- the coffee table, not the bedding set-- to eat cake. The first joke happens because Makoto is stupid enough to ask questions.

"The bedding set is going to be a little difficult," he says, peering over his cake with some disdain, "since we don't have a bed." Which is true. They have two mattresses, both single sized for one person and in different rooms of the apartment. For practical reasons, you know. Nagisa pulls a face not entirely known to man and with all the confidence in the world, says, "Mako-chan, are you still pretending like the two of you aren't dating?"

Rei chokes on his piece of cake. Makoto's entire face turns red. Haru doesn't react but, well-- he's Haru, so it's not at all unusual when he just blinks in a contained way and sips at the half-empty glass of sake in front of him. The only really drunk one is Nagisa, after all, so he's allowed to sip liberally at it; Nagisa sways back on his knees and giggles into Rei's shoulder.

"N-Nagisa," stutters the taller. Looking absolutely mortified. Makoto is trying to pretend like he doesn't want to go crawl into a hole and die, and like the spot on his ceiling is very interesting. Rei continues to stutter and Nagisa continues to laugh.

"I'm sorry," Rei apologises on his boyfriend's behalf. "He just bought a new bed, and-- well, he insisted on giving the old one to the two of you. Since he'd just be throwing it out otherwise."

Makoto's cheeks are still coursing hotly with blood. He focusses all of his energy into not biting his tongue clean in two. "Ah, is that right, Nagisa?" he scratches the back of his neck and tries to look pleasant, smiling; though for all the world he still can't remember how to talk properly. "Well thank you, but you really don't have to go to the trouble-- after all, we can't do much with just sheets. We only have two separate mattresses, and it isn't exactly as if Haru-chan and I sleep together. Thank you very much for the offer, but I think we'll be fine with just the coffee table."

 "W-we were going to drop the, um," Rei continues, face beet red, "head board off another time, and--"

"Don't bother," interrupts Haru abruptly. Makoto looks up and meets his eyes. To his utmost shock, he finds them hard, dark with something he can't name. "He might as well just throw it out."

Makoto regains the presence of mind just to look a little mortified at Haru's actions-- towards their best friends, no less, and with more deadpan in his voice than usual--

"You said it yourself," he says briskly, "we don't sleep together, so what's the point? It would just get in the way."

He goes back to sipping at his sake. Makoto looks away from him, trying to give him space-- he hopes that the other two will not notice the darkening of his cheeks, or how stiff he is being towards his friend. They don't; Nagisa is too busy being drunk, and Rei is too busy trying to get him to slow down. When they leave shortly before 11-- despite Makoto's insistence that they stay the night, Rei insists he can escort Nagisa home just fine-- Haru still hasn't looked at him once since the bed comment. Makoto's just reached the point of thinking that he really has done something to offend him.

"Hey, Makoto."

He stops on his way out of the room, freezing.

"About the other day..."

In a split second of horror, Makoto thinks that he means the other day, when he almost leaned in and kissed him. An indescribable surge of horror courses through him at the thought of this and he almost flees for his room. Casting an uncertain glance back at Haru, keeping his voice steady, he manages, "Yes?"

Haru's gaze doesn't waver. "I'm sorry I left without saying anything. I'd had a hard day, and..." he trails off. Makoto's shoulders sag with relief. So he didn't mean that time in the kitchen. He meant--

"It's okay, Haru-chan," he says, offering his friend a smile. "You don't have to tell me every time you want to leave, you know. It wasn't a big deal."

"But it was rude," continues Haru. His eyes are still dark, like his pupils haven't shrunk once since dinner; something about the sight of them sets Makoto's blood on fire. He finds himself very unable to move as the other takes a very deliberate step in his direction; and then another, and another. Eventually, Haru ends up mere inches from being chest-to-chest with Makoto, close enough that he could reach out with the length of one arm and have it stretch right past him. Haru's eyes seem even darker now, shadowed by his lashes as he looks up through them. "I didn't give you your birthday present," he murmurs. "Do you want it now?"

Makoto swallows past the lump in his throat and tries to muster up the courage to say something. He is horrified with himself. He doesn't know how to word, or even possibly fathom, his reaction at Haru's words; in a weak, far-off voice, he croaks, "Okay."

Haru turns around and leaves the room. Makoto is overcome with an acute sense of confusion, and then dawning realisation: Haru is going to get his birthday present. He feels immediately stupid and overall, embarrassed, that his misread the other's implications. Definitely embarrassed, he thinks, trying to will away the darkness of his cheeks by the time Haru returns to the room. And to think, he had been thinking that Haru was going to--

"Here," says Haru, reappearing in the room with a small box in hand. Makoto laughs uncomfortably.

"You really didn't have to get me anything."

"I know I didn't have to." Haru says it like he thinks Makoto's stupid. "I did it because I wanted to. Please, open it."

Makoto's heart thumps loudly in his chest as he reaches for the small box in his friend's hand. It has been gift wrapped intricately, tied off with a little green bow on top, and he can't help but try to picture in his mind Haru-- laid-back, heedless Haru-- hunched over and trying to tie the ribbon to get it right. Since their graduation, he had gone back to his usual self, concerned with not much else other than swimming-- and his times, now, but that still has to do with swimming-- and seeming less than enthralled by the prospect of anything else. Makoto stares at the box in his hands. He can't imagine when he would have gone out and bought it.

Haru watches expectantly as the taller works his fingers over the delicate ribbon, trying to tug on it as gently as possible so as not to spoil the wrapping. Haru makes an irritated noise. "You don't have to be so careful," he says. "It's wrapping. You're supposed to tear it."

Makoto blushes. Normally he would smile at that, make a light-hearted joke-- because really, it was so _Haru_ for him to say so-- but for some reason, tonight he can't bring himself to. He swallows again. Inside the box is a dolphin key chain.

Makoto stares at it until Haru starts to shift uncomfortably. It is made of elaborately blown glass and pretty colours, held together on a sterling key ring. Makoto holds it up and lets it dangle from his left pinky, dazed.

"Is this--"

"It's not the same one, obviously, but I found it the other day on my way home. I figured... since you gave me that one all those years ago..." He trails off, looking embarrassed. It's not like Haru to look embarrassed. Makoto takes a step in his direction but stops immediately when he sees Haru jump, surprised.

"Thank you," he blurts. Not knowing what else to say. Haru blinks at him. "Thank you, I... this is perfect. You didn't have to get me anything, but I'm glad you did. This is perfect."

Haru drops his gaze and looks at the floor. The light streaming in from outside, through the curtains left open in the living room: it makes the room blue, at this time of night. Haru's whole face is blue, even the shadows under his eyes. It shouldn't be startling when he looks up again, when the deep blue of his eyes meets Makoto's, but it is.

"I was going to hug you," Makoto says, gesturing with his head at Haru. "Can I?"

Haru shakes his head and steps back, out of the blue light and the brightness in general. "No. I'd rather you didn't."

Makoto stares, his mouth agape. He's about to ask why, when--

"The other day in the kitchen," says Haru. Makoto's blood runs cold. The shorter of the two looks uncomfortable, refusing to meet Makoto's gaze, and rubs his arm absently in the dark of the hallway. A silence continues to stretch on between them and it is not entirely auditory.

"Haru-chan--"

"Drop the chan," mutters Haru. He still won't meet Makoto's gaze. Makoto thinks that he is going to say something, that he is going to elaborate on 'the other day in the kitchen', but he doesn't. He just stands there for a few moments more, looking uncomfortable, and says, "I'm going to bed, I have to go early tomorrow to meet my coach. Happy birthday again."

Makoto says nothing as Haru turns and disappears back into his room, sealing the door shut behind him almost soundlessly. He continues to stare even when Haru is gone, when he expects the light in his room to come on and shine through the bottom of the door and it doesn't.

It feels like hours before he finally brings himself to move, back in the direction of his own bed, where he lies down and stares at the blue light on the ceiling. He can't name what he is feeling, but he's sure he doesn't like it. It's not emptiness; not exactly sadness either, but it's something far off. He can't shake the feel of Haru's body against his in the kitchen, the way his fingertips flexed over the muscles of Makoto's shoulder when he was making sure it wasn't hurt. He can't shake the look in Haru's eyes at dinner tonight, or how it didn't go away even later when they were standing in the hall-- there must be something wrong, he thinks, because he's  never felt like this before, not in all their years of friendship. Maybe he's broken. Makoto rolls over and lies so that he's facing the window, staring straight into the blue of the city and the rushing noise of cars below. Or maybe he was never un-broken. Maybe this is how he's always been, and these feelings have just been lurking to find an opportunity to spring up and ruin his life; is it because he's nineteen now? Does being nineteen come with a whole other range of things, like thinking about kissing your best friend and not being able to sleep properly? He shuts his eyes and tries not to think about that first thing. He can't say it's never come up before-- just the passing thought, entirely innocent, nothing to brood about. Wondering whether Haru's lips would be soft against his-- what his face would feel like between Makoto's hands-- if he would make _noises_ \--

Makoto huffs an irritated noise and rolls over again, away from the piercing light of the window. It's never bothered him before, so why now? The thought stirs something like anger, low and hot in his gut. This isn't right, he thinks.

This isn't right, and he's going to stop thinking about it right now, before he makes another mistake and ruins things further.

He falls asleep to the sound of a car alarm going off on the streets below, and the thought of what it would be like to kiss Haru's neck.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> makoto does something you should never, ever want to do if you want to treat your love life seriously, and he goes to nagisa for help. also, it turns out haru doesn't hate all action movies after all.

When he wakes up the next morning, Haru is already gone.

Makoto isn't surprised but he acts that way anyway, sulking around the apartment until it's time to go to his own class. He tries not to think too hard about it, to convince himself that things are still normal; so what if the apartment gets kind of pretty after dark? That doesn't mean that he was thinking of  _Haru_  like that. So what if the room ends up kind of blue, and it happens to match the shade of his best friend's eyes? A total coincidence.

The sound of their neighbours' cat meowing frenetically almost scares him half to death on his way out the door, he's so out of it; he spends his walk to class musing on the thought that they should get a cat and ends up getting there earlier than planned, so he gets out his lecture notebook and starts idly reviewing his notes from last class. Because things are normal. Normal, normal, normal.

Last night seems more like a dream than anything, the dark blue of Haru's eyes embedded in his mind as too artificial a colour to have been real. He feels appalled at himself for the thoughts going through his mind whilst trying to go to sleep, cheeks pinkening at the thought of what Haru would say if he knew.  He doesn't know where the thoughts came from, but he knows they have to stop; he's just making a deal with himself to find some time to talk to one of his friends about it when the voice of a girl draws him from his daydreams.

"--hey. I said, hey. You're Tachibana-san, right?"

He blinks in surprise at the face looming over him. "I'm-- yes, that's me. Sorry, I wasn't really paying attention. You're Aimi, right?"  
She grins. "That's right. How brash of you."

Makoto feels his face turn red. "I didn't mean to--"

"It's okay," she says. "Really. I don't mind at all. I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday for yesterday. It was your birthday, wasn't it?"

Yes, he thinks, but how did you know that? "Ah-- that's right," he says, laughing easily and rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry, I've been so out of it, I almost didn't remember..."

"Didn't remember your own birthday?" Aimi looks incredulous. Makoto shakes his head nearly violently.

"No, just now, I almost didn't remember that it was yesterday-- sorry, did you want to sit with me?"

She does. She slides into the seat next to his, and immediately starts talking about their lesson yesterday. Makoto tries to stay interested and pay her full attention out of courtesy and respect, but he really is out of it; he can't stop thinking about the way Haru looked at him, the almost shy turn of his gaze when Makoto asked if he could draw him in for an embrace. It was just going to be a friendly one! He swears it, and just the memory of Haru's blatant rejection at that is enough to make his face burn...

He realises that Aimi is staring at him. Sitting upright, he gripes, "Uh-- I'm sorry, you were saying?"

She smiles at him, seeming amused. "I was just asking if you'd started on that piece that's due at the end of the week. You seem like you've got something on your mind, though. Is it a girl?"

"Oh-- no, it's not," stammers Makoto. He tries his luck at a self-deprecating smile, like: 'Don't worry about me, you wouldn't want to date me!' He lands somewhere on the edge of sheepish, however. To his alarm, Aimi looks pleased.

"So you're single? That's a relief. Anyway, I was going to ask-- did you want to get dinner with me on Friday night? A new sashimi place just opened near where I live, and I figured if you weren't busy, we could go together."

Makoto, despite the redness of his cheeks, thinks about it. "Ah-- actually, I already have plans then," he admits, apologetic. "I promised my roommate we'd buy takeout and talk about our schooling together." Which isn't exactly a lie-- he had said to Haru that they should do that some time. A few weeks ago.

Aimi looks significantly disappointed, openly pouting and placing her head on her hand. "Really? That's too bad."

Heads turn to the front of the classroom as their professor finally makes a belated entrance, apologising for his absence. Aimi leans in, whispering quickly, "I'll give you my number, so call me some time and we'll go do something, okay?" Makoto is too shell-shocked to say anything. It only occurs to him in a sudden blaze of understanding that this girl intends to actually take him out on a date.

She turns back to face the front of the room after that and tunes into their professor, apparently oblivious to Makoto's presence from then on; or maybe she's good at acting. He can't tell. He spends the rest of the lecture appropriately tuned out, trying-- for all the life of him-- to think of how to get out of going on a date with this girl, and how to turn her down politely. It's not that there's anything particularly wrong with her; sideways eyeing her, he figures she's pretty enough, and since they're taking the same class, they obviously have similar interests. He just can't see himself dating her. Or anyone, for that matter, he corrects internally and quickly, twisting his lips. Not right now, anyway.

But she is pretty. He's not going to deny himself that fact; she's got dark hair, cropped off at her shoulders, and gunmetal blue eyes nearly the colour of steel. If he had to force himself to go out with her, he's sure he could bear one date; he should  _want_  to, he reminds himself. And if school weren't in the way, he would. Yes, school! he thinks. It's school that's in the way of his love life.

Something about the realisation gets him thinking about Haru again, about the way he looked at Makoto last night before he went to bed, about all the thoughts Makoto has been affronted with since. He ends up so caught up in the daydream that he fails to notice when their class ends, until people start to file out and Aimi rouses him from his seat. She grins pleasantly at the frantic way Makoto shakes his head and gathers his bearings, and then says something about him nearly falling asleep. He mutters some form of a goodbye to her before fleeing the room, too embarrassed to stay behind any longer.

He arrives home to find the apartment empty, just as he had been suspecting; which is perfect, he thinks, drawing the curtains. Just perfect for what he's about to do.

Nagisa answers on the third ring.

"Mako-chan if this is about the writing on the bottom of the coffee table I can explain--"

"Hi, Nagisa," he interrupts. "I'm not calling about the-- wait, what writing?"

"Never mind!" insists Nagisa, but now Makoto can't tear his eyes from the coffee table. "How was class? Do you need something?"

He knows he's trying to change the subject, but Makoto lets him. This situation is too dire, and far too dicey, to risk getting caught up on small talk and distractions.

"Actually, I was calling because I needed some advice."

.

A mere ten minutes later, they reach the point in their conversation and Makoto hits a dead end.

"You think I  _like_  him?"

"Well duh, Mako-chan." Makoto can almost hear the distasteful face Nagisa must be making. He can't stop gaping. "I mean, what else could it be? You get nervous around him, being in the same room makes you both tense, and you think about kissing him? It's a text book crush."

"That's--" Makoto stammers, trying to regain his bearings. "I mean, that's-- ridiculous. Isn't it? Haru and I... Haru is..." he doesn't know how to finish his sentence. Haru is what? On the other end, Nagisa sighs dramatically.

"You guys are so pathetic. It's really not that hard, once you come to term with your feelings, you know! When I realised I liked Rei-chan--"

"You tried to climb the side of his house to get to his window," scolds Makoto, frowning. "You fell."

"Look, the details aren't important--"

"Please just forget this phone call. I'm probably... coming down with something, I'm sure that's it. Yeah! Soon I'll get a fever, and that will explain why..." he trails off again. Nagisa giggles.

"Why you keep thinking of kissing your roommate?"

"I have to go."

"Mako-chan, wait."

He waits. He hesitates with the phone in his hand a second, about two moments from just hanging up. Unwillingly, he draws it back to his ear.

"Just think about it a little, alright? Next time you see him, try to think about what it would be like if you were dating him. If you like the idea... or your stomach feels all fluttery, or whatever. Well, you'll know, right?"

Makoto sighs. "I guess so."

"Good! And you can call me when you find out, and tell me I was right. I like being right."

"I know you do."

"Anyway, I have to go. I promised Rei-chan I'd help him study. Some of us still have to deal with  _high school_  exams, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Makoto smiles. "Sorry, Nagisa. Good luck."

"Thanks," he chirps. He lets out some fancy string of expletives and on the other end of the line is a loud thumping noise. "My sister," he explains, as if that actually explains anything. "We'll talk later, okay? Good luck Mako-chan! Bye!"

He hangs up before Makoto can say goodbye back.

Makoto spends the rest of the afternoon trying to make himself feel useful, cleaning around the apartment and tidying areas that were probably already clean enough before he got to them. He tries a number of times just sitting down and focussing on watching tv, but his mind is too restless; now he can't stop thinking about what  _Nagisa_  said, on top of his own worries. Surely, he thinks--  _surely_ \-- the hyperactive blonde isn't right. What does he know about relationships? Apart from the fact that he's been in one for a solid two years now. Makoto makes a pained face as he resumes his cleaning. So Nagisa has a little credibility. So what? That doesn't mean he's  _right_ , and if it was really true, Makoto thinks he ought to have noticed it at least once before. It seems a little far fetched to like someone like that and not be aware until now.

Haru scares the shit out of him when he comes home an hour early, slamming the apartment door on accident behind him. Makoto jumps about a foot in the air and tries to make it look like he wasn't just waiting around anxiously for his roommate to return. He's not sure it works; Haru pokes his head into the kitchen and raises his brows.

"What's for dinner?" he asks.

Makoto feels his face start to heat up. "I didn't cook anything," he says. "I just--"

"It's fine," says Haru, stepping into the room to shed his jacket and bag. Makoto swallows. "We're not married, so I don't expect you to cook my meals every day. Do you want to order takeout? We could watch some movies."

Makoto wants to  _die_. Suddenly his heart won't stop hammering, his palms are sweating; he doesn't even remember what a movie is, letalone how to deal with--

"Hey," says Haru, stopping in front of him. His blue eyes burn holes into Makoto's. "Are you alright? You look a little flushed."

He raises the back of his hand to feel along his best friend's forehead, checking his temperature. Makoto's heart beat slows down. His shoulders relax. This is  _Haru_ , he thinks, internally shaking his head. What is he getting so worked up about? He's seen this boy in far too many awkward circumstances to get nervous around him now; Haru's the one person in this whole world Makoto is most comfortable with, so why was he shaking so hard before? Offering him a fond smile, Makoto tilts his head.

"Yeah, that sounds great. What movie do you want to watch? I'll order dinner."

Haru shrugs, but he seems to be side-eyeing Makoto more than usual. "I don't care. You pick."

"What about an action movie?" Haru's nose crinkles.

"I hate action movies."

"I'll find a really good one for you. Are you sure you don't want to pick?"  
"I'm sure," Haru says, and for a second his voice is back to normal; when Makoto looks at him, he is smiling, but in that same second the smile vanishes like it was never there at all. 

They eventually reach a compromise.

.

The nervousness returns as soon as the food is gone.

The empty space on the couch between Makoto and Haru already feels miles long, and as soon as the takeout boxes get moved to the coffee table, it feels even longer. The movie they ended up picking is a B-grade action film, some boring, one dimensional plot with too many explosions. Makoto tries in earnest to pay attention, but he keeps getting side tracked by Haru's reactions. Contrary to the normal division of their personalities,  _Haru_  is the one seemingly immersed in the film's antics, diligently paying attention to every moment on screen with the appropriate widening of his eyes at all the dramatic parts. Maybe it's just because most of the movie takes place on a boat, but-- he seems especially taken with the film's romantic arc, which happens to take place between the ship's captain  and a female pirate of one of the ships they are attacked by. Haru watches intently as the shorter, dark haired female is swept into the arms of the broad shouldered captain and they embrace-- overbearingly-- above the rush of the waves. Makoto grows uncomfortable as the two actors' lips meet on screen, his hands curling into fists at his lap. Imploringly, he dares a glance over in Haru's direction.

His stomach drops at the sight of his friend. Haru is leaning forward slightly in his seat to watch as the scene plays out, eyes locked on the rusty-haired sailor and all the gross, wet kissing noises the couple are making. His lips have even parted; Makoto tries to tear his gaze away and just ends up staring harder. He can't shake his own erratic mind, the same thoughts from last night; what would Haru's lips actually feel like against his own? From here they look smooth, but he can't picture in his mind how they would look up close; or how they would taste. His lids lower as he tries to imagine his smaller friend shifting across the sofa to slot their bodies together, maybe forgetting about the movie as they got too caught up in one another instead--

Haru's eyes meet his and Makoto snaps out of it. He grins sheepishly, trying to play it off-- oh, was I staring at you? What a strange coincidence!-- and looking immediately back at the screen, hoping to hide the redness of his cheeks. Now he can't stop thinking about Haru's eyes. His pupils are blown again-- the already dark blue of his irises swallowed up by them, by the deep, overpowering black, almost the same colour as his hair-- and his lashes had been lowered. Makoto tries and fails not to picture Haru sleeping, those lashes-- he has lashes as dark as his hair, and lots of them-- still against his cheek. His stomach flips a little. After a few more minutes, the credits start to roll.

Haru gets up to flip on the lights again and Makoto switches off the film. He tries to return things to their usual normality; rubbing the back of his neck, he grins at Haru. "It ended kind of bittersweet, huh?"

"I liked it," says Haru. He returns to his seat beside Makoto, feeling miles away as he places both hands in his lap. Makoto stares at them and swallows.

"You keep looking at me," says Haru, tearing Makoto's gaze back to his face; the taller feels himself turn beet red and immediately begins to stutter.

"A-ah, do I? That's... I wasn't aware I was! Doing that, I mean. I, uh..." Haru looks at him, surprised, as he trails off. "I won't do it any more, I guess."

Haru turns his face away again. "It's fine."

A silence weaves its way between them. It drones on for a while, the kind of oppressive, sickening silence laid like a thick rug over the both of them. Makoto struggles to breathe and realises at the last second that it's because he has started to hold his breath.

Haru doesn't look at him. "You can look at me if you want to."

Makoto's head snaps up, then. He doesn't dare say something to ruin what they have-- he considers his words carefully, trying them around his tongue before he dares let them out. "That's..." he trails off, mouth feeling like cotton. "I mean, I know you don't like it. Being stared at. I know it makes you anxious. I won't look, if--"

"I meant, it's okay if it's you," interrupts Haru, and suddenly his gaze is like steel against Makoto's. He doesn't drop eye contact, not even when it grows silent again. He waits a total of about thirty seconds before he finally tears his gaze away with a sharp sigh. "You're usually the exception in... all this."

Makoto's heart thuds unevenly in his chest. By all this, he means... their friendship? The tips of Haru's ears have gone pink. Makoto wants so desperately to lean over, to let his breath ghost the most sensitive parts of his ear and neck and smile against his skin--

He shakes his head free of the thoughts. Working himself up, getting carries away now will do nothing good for the conversation they're trying to have. Makoto swallows past the lump in his throat. "Well, I'm glad to be a good friend to you," he says, offering Haru a smile; the shorter seems to regard it with a tiny bit of irritability, looking back down again as immediately as he looked up. "It makes me happy. Making you happy, as your friend."

Haru gets redder. Makoto feels himself start to heat up, too aware that their conversation is getting... more emotional, than they're used to. He considers fleeing a few times before giving up just to fold his hands neatly in his lap and look down at his feet. Haru stands.

"I'm going to bed," he announces. "I'm sorry. I know it's early. I have a... a thing, tomorrow morning."

Makoto stands with him. "A thing? I thought you didn't do training on--"

"It's a different kind of thing," Haru says. He hesitates a second.

"...A date thing?"

"No," Haru answers quickly, sounding almost offended, and, "no," again. "If it was a date, you..." he trails off. After a moment more, the shorter boy shakes his head, letting free some of the bits of his hair that had fallen weirdly over his forehead on the couch. He nods at Makoto. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Makoto tries to say, but Haru has already closed his bedroom door before he gets the whole word out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im back to writing this fanfiction shit while i take a break from book editing! which is super fun and super GAY, and i love things that are fun and gay.  
> on the subject of things that are fun and gay: i have a tumblr! you should totally feel free to head down and shoot me a message. send me all of your favourite drawings, your experimental chillwave mixes, questions about the existentially unknown. or just say hi. im cool with whatever. http://saturnbot.tumblr.com/


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> haru meets some quote unquote fangirls in a cafe, rin is a Big Gay Mess, and as usual, guys are being dudes

Haru decides, very simply and very early on in the situation, that he is losing his mind.

He's not used to having his best friend hate him. It's not a situation either of them have ever been in, save for the single and only proper fight they've ever been in-- over their post-high school plans-- but even that had only lasted a few days, and had resolved itself.

He has always been aware of his feelings.

Normally he's the kind of person to just... go for it, if it's something he really wants. God knows he's always handled swimming that way, stripping off even at the most inconvenient places if it means getting to jump in the water. He's even treated school that way, studying and trying his best only when it ever suited him or his needs or goals.

He's never been in this situation before.

He's never had to.

Haru was about fifteen when he realised he had feelings for his best friend, and his immediate reaction is the exact same as his reaction now: ignore it, and it will go away. He has always cared way more about Makoto than anything else, his own feelings included, so-- if it meant keeping his best friend, he was perfectly content to just sit on his feelings and wait for them to pass. He certainly didn't want to make Makoto uncomfortable by pushing said feelings, and the thought of actually confessing was more than a little scary.

After they moved in together, things got a little complicated.

Haru thinks that the feelings really started to make themselves known around about the age of fifteen, but in truth they were probably there long before that. He's always felt more at ease around the boy, perfectly content to spend his time quietly by his side and let him deal with whatever social repercussions their unideal friendship would bring about. Makoto is like the water, always managing to sweep away his anxieties and troubles with ease and replace them by a crystalline fondness. Nagisa called his smile 'refreshing' once, he believes; refreshing is an understatement. Makoto's smile is like the ocean.

He goes to bed early, but he does not sleep.

Haru lies away and stares up at the roof of his apartment, of their apartment, and tries to focus on the sounds of the streets outside. Moving to Tokyo was a big deal for him-- so used to the quiet of his own place, suddenly having to worry about a roommate and external noise had been unsettling. More nights than not he had found himself having to slip out once his friend fell asleep to wander the streets alone, wrapped in about fifty layers-- because despite all claims of the contrary, Tokyo was cold compared to the warm neighbourhood he had grown up in-- and with no particular direction in mind, until he either got tired or bored and headed back to the apartment, passing out still in his clothes on top of the dingy mattress he'd brought with him. He hates that mattress.

He slowly started to get used to it, but even now it's still unsettling; almost a year later, and he still jumps at car alarms, still feels the urge within him to just jump on the nearest train and escape it all.  The future is scary-- he's living his dream, he insists to himself, but it's still scary. At least Makoto's got a completely set plan.

Things got worse after school started. Haru started easing his way into his training regime, and Makoto... well, went to class, Haru assumed. He'd never followed him, so he could be spending all of his time in Memory Alley for all Haru knew; that would hardly explain the metric tonnes of homework and lecture notes he came home with, however.

Makoto started acting weird pretty much as soon as they got into a routine. Contrary to how he'd always sort of taken it as his responsibility to look after Haru-- much like Haru looked after the cats back home-- he suddenly found it was his duty to look after the both of them, eternally startled by the harsh reality of being away from home. Government benefits didn't cover everything, but they did cover rent; that left Makoto working late weekends to pay for most of their food, and Haru's parents to send care packages with money in them. Makoto had told him it was fine, that he understood there was no time in his strict athletic schedule for a job, but Haru still felt guilty. Makoto was doing so much, and he was doing so little.

It was about a month in that Makoto started cooking all of his meals.  Neither of them spoke about this, save for in passing maybe once or twice-- "Is this mine in the refrigerator? Did you cook for me again?" "I had leftovers from lunch. It's no trouble!"

And now-- during these past few months-- to make things absolutely, utterly, and completely worse, Makoto has started to catch on to Haru's feelings.

Or at least, that's what he thinks is happening.

It starts with Makoto being jumpy. If Haru is somewhere he doesn't expect him to be, rather than flinching slightly he jumps a good couple feet into the air, scattering himself around the apartment to demonstrate his surprise at every one of Haru's location changes. Because he's nervous around me, Haru reasons to himself. He's tense. Uncomfortable. He never knows what to say.

Makoto starts going to bed earlier and rising later, when he thinks Haru will be out of the apartment-- sometimes he's right, and sometimes he isn't, and Haru has to watch with bland disdain as Makoto scares himself into jumping and flees with the excuse that he's going to be late. Even if it's only 8, and class isn't until 10.

More than that is the fact that Makoto constantly looks like he's trying to decide what to say. He kicks his legs, he bobs his knees, he plays with his thumbs, and he stares. Explicitly at Haru, as if he has no idea the other boy is  aware. The anxious part of the dark haired boy hates this with a firey passion, wants it to stop; the part of him that's in love with Makoto wants to let him know that it's okay to stare as much as he wants. He's never really let himself think about it, because it all becomes real when he thinks-- what it would be like to just confess to Makoto, and what it would be like if Makoto reciprocated. It could never happen, but still.

It must be that Makoto has discovered his feelings. There's no other explanation for it, for his weird behaviour and anxious attitude towards the other. The thought kind of makes Haru sick, that they're going to have to work through things now. Find a compromise. That's what magazines are always saying, anyway.

Haru sleeps lightly, wakes up three times, and leaves the apartment before the sun is up. He doesn't have plans. He figures that Makoto probably knows this, from the awkward way he questioned them last night, but he's not supposed to care. He's supposed to be distancing himself from this entire situation, so as to maintain their friendship and nothing more.

Nothing that would cross any lines.

He gets off the subway at Kyobashi and waits patiently in the freezing cold for his favourite coffee place to open, laptop heavy in the black bag slipped across his shoulder. There are two girls who apparently have the same idea as him, waiting hunched together in a little conference for the manager to come open the doors. Haru isn't stupid. He knows they're staring; though he can't imagine why, he's gotten a considerable amount of attention since his move to the city. Nagisa keeps joking that it's the fact that he's finally dressing better, that he's grown into his face. A college boy, he said proudly, giving him a steady once over and a wink, and Rei had blanched. But Haru doesn't think so. He certainly doesn't think he's anything next to Makoto, who basically lights up the entirety of the city and all its neighbouring towns. The two girls are still whispering to each other frantically. He can see them in the corner of his eye.

The manager shows up not long after to open the store, seeming more exhausted than the three of the waiting customers put together. Haru seats himself in a far table in the corner and waits, politely, for the poor morning shift workers to gather their bearings. The girls are still talking, a little louder now-- but nothing intelligible for Haru to eavesdrop on, not that he would-- when he rises from his seat some fifteen minutes later to order a short black.

They approach him when he goes back to his table.

"Excuse me," says the first girl, "I don't mean to interrupt, but are you Rin Matsuoka's friend?"  
Haru's expression falls. Huh?

"I am," he answers shortly. You could say so. Maybe not in so many words-- friend, unfortunate companion, unwilling therapist susceptible to bi-monthly phone calls where Rin gets drunk and whines about his non-existent love life. It all means the same thing. Nonetheless, something lights up in the eyes of both girls; complete adoration, Haru realises, like they are meeting a star.

"Really? That's incredible! You know he talks about you in one of his books, and--"

Haru stops listening. The last year has been a rollercoaster for all of them, but more so for Rin; he has only just started to use his natural talent at "spinning bullshit", as he calls it-- at "being a disgusting romantic", as the rest of his friends argue-- to do some writing on the side of all of his training, a lot of which has gotten more popular than any of them were initially expecting. He had tried to hide it from them for as long as possible, which actually ending up being about a month. Gou found the manuscript when she was visiting, for his first book-- Blue-- and called the rest of them immediately. A week later, he had a publisher crawling up his back.

It isn't bad enough that these two girls were staring, Haru thinks, but now they're probably going to ask for his stupid friend's autograph, and he's going to have to let them down easy and tell them that Rin, unfortunately, is still in Australia, and--

"--we just wanted to ask if you could tell him how inspirational his work has been. I mean, for people like us." The second girl reaches over and grasps the first's hand suggestively. Haru's gaze follows the motion. Oh, he thinks. So maybe they weren't staring because they thought he was attractive. It ought to be a stab to his ego, but more than anything it's just relieving. He lets out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding and meets the eyes of the first girl. "Thank you. I'm sure Rin would appreciate hearing something like that. I'll let him know--"

"Thank you," says girl  number two immediately. "Can I ask you something? Is it true that Rin modelled the characters in The Colour Grey after real people in his life? We've read interviews, and..." they trail off, waiting. Haru resists the urge to make a face.

"I haven't read his new book, so I can't tell you. But knowing Rin, yes. That's probably entirely true."

Girl number one's eyes light up. "So it's true then? You're Haruaki-san?"

"I suppose--"

"Then you're in love with your friend, Makihiko!"

Haru's expression flattens. "I'm sorry, what?"

"If the characters are modelled after real people... the character that meant to be you, Haruaki, has been in love with his friend since high school."

Haru feels his face start to heat up and desperately wills the blush away. God, please, not now--

"So who is it?" demands the first girl. "We've been following Matsuoka's interviews carefully, but we can't figure it out! It's been keeping us up at night--"

"I'm sorry," interrupts Haru, "but I don't know what you're talking about. I'm sure it's just Rin spouting bullshit. Please let me work now."

The girls exchange a surprised glance. They mutter their apologies soon after and skulk back to their own table, leaving Haru with a completely red face and lukewarm coffee.

..

When he gets back to the apartment, Makoto is gone, so he takes a deep breath and dials Rin's number so hard his finger hurts.

He answers just as the phone is going to voicemail. "Hello, hello, sorry I was--"

"Am I a character in your new book?"

Rin falls silent. After a moment, he laughs. "Is that what this phone call is about? Haru, you're worrying about nothing. The books aren't even that popular, no one reads them--"  
"Listen, you gay mess," hisses Haru into the phone. "I just met with two girls in a cafe who seem to beg to differ about that. They asked me if I was your friend."

"Well, I'm sure it was just a one-off thing--"

"They said that my character in your book is in love with his high school friend. And then they asked me who the high school friend is."

Rin is silent a moment. Finally, he snickers. "Oh my God."

"Oh my God is right. Why did you use our names in your interviews, you fame-obsessed--"

"I'm not fame-obsessed," he interrupts, sounding offended, "and anyway, writing is just a hobby for me. You know how it is. Or you don't, maybe-- do you even have any hobbies outside of swimming?" Haru's cheeks heat up. "And no, 'Makoto' is not a hobby."

"Is that who the high school friend is meant to be?"

"Look, Haru, it's fictional, isn't it? If you want, in the next book I can do one of those 'any similarities to real life persons is coincidental' footnotes at the beginning."

"I don't want that, I want..." he trails off. He doesn't exactly know what he wants at this point. To stop getting harrassed by his friend's fans in cafes? Maybe. But something else...?"

"...How is Makoto?" Rin asks. Haru lets out a sigh.

"Weird. He's been acting... really strange, recently. I think he's avoiding me."

"Did he find out that you like him?"

Haru's cheeks burn. "No." He doesn't bother denying it. Is it really that obvious?

Rin snorts. "Did you find out that he likes you?"

Haru resists the urge to blanch. "No. And he doesn't--"

"He does, and you're an idiot if you don't think so," Rin says curtly, sounding almost irritated with him. "Seriously. I don't know how long it's gonna take for you idiots to get your shit together and finally confess, but it's doing my head in. I'm considering starting a bet with Nagisa or something."

"Nagisa wouldn't..." Haru doesn't finish his sentence. Of course Nagisa would.

"I don't care if you believe me or not, but I know my shit, okay? So call me when it finally happens."

Haru sighs again. He can't really force himself to be mad at Rin for being aware of his feelings, or for making the honest mistake of judging Makoto's; Makoto is just a friendly guy, and they happen to be close. It's nothing to get his hopes up over. "...How are things going for you?" Haru asks, trying to be pleasant. Rin barks a laugh.

"Like you care."

"I do."

"Well, they're fine, thanks for asking. My times are getting better every day and I'm still writing on the side. It's all going great for me; no complaints over here."

"How's Sousuke?"

Rin falls silent. Haru wonders whether he's crossed the line, whether he's said something too cruel for a moment, but after what feels like the longest time Rin responds. "I don't really want to talk about that. There's nothing to talk about, come to think of it."

Haru rolls his eyes. "You're such a hypocrite. You can't really expect me to believe that the two of you, before high school ended--"

"Sousuke and I agreed that we were going our separate ways, and we're cool with that. If something is going to happen in the future, it will."

Haru rolls his eyes again. "Right."

"So what are you going to do about this whole Makoto situation?"

Haru sits down on the sofa, drawing his knees together. "I don't know," he admits after a moment. "I don't know what to do. I want things to be normal between us."

Rin scoffs. "Bullshit. More like you want things to be normal as in domestic. Let me give you some advice, okay?"  
"Advice from the washed up gay romance writer? Please go on."

"It's not gay romance, you asshole, it's YA fiction with some gay characters in it. I don't even-- anyway. Why don't you try making Makoto jealous?"

Haru makes a face. Would that work? He's skeptical. "...This isn't a television drama."

"I know it's not. That's why it'll work-- Makoto is a totally possessive person, okay, trust me. Make him jealous enough and he'll be all over you."

Haru makes a face. "Rin..."

"Trust me, okay?"

Haru sighs. "Okay. I have to go; international calls are expensive, you know."

Rin chuckles on the other line. "Yeah, okay. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye," says Haru. He hangs up the phone, never feeling more uncertain about his relationship with his best friend in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disgustingly unedited. my deepest apologies; i have no real excuse, other than ive been a worthless pile of crap all day and im still exhausted  
> feel free to come abuse me over at cometghost.tumblr.com !!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nagisa gets drunk again and haru's a jealous virgin

It's about a week more before Nagisa insists they all meet up again.

Apparently this time it's to celebrate their exams being over, and to quote Nagisa directly: "as an excuse to get like, _really_ drunk before I get my results back."

For this reason alone he insists that he and Rei come to Haru and Makoto, despite the others' insistence that they are perfectly capable of taking a train. Nagisa brings peach schnapps, a phallically inclined t-shirt, and a mattress. A huge mattress. Which Rei has to help him carry.

Makoto doesn't let him through the front door of their apartment with it. He's a little taken aback, to say the least; first by the dick on his shirt, and then by the mattress. "Nagisa, what are you wearing-- what is _that?_ "

"It's the mattress!" he grunts, trying to sound his usual chipper self despite the strain of the huge thing in his arms. Makoto frowns.

"I can see that. Didn't I say we wouldn't be needing it?"

Nagisa's grin is _devilish_. "Well, I _figuuure_ , after that phone call--"

"Please, come in!" exclaims Makoto before the blonde can finish. His cheeks are bright red as he lets the small boy drag the huge mattress into their apartment, his mortified boyfriend trailing behind him. He whips his head around to check if Haru heard, but he looks too caught up in his book to have noticed. Makoto resists the urge to wipe his forehead of invisible sweat. Bullet dodged.

Nagisa lets the mattress fall pretty ungracefully to the living room floor, taking with it a few books and the television remote from the coffee table. Nagisa almost topples over with laughter; Rei looks about ready to die.

"Oh!" Nagisa exclaims, as if suddenly remembering. "Mako-chan, did you end up looking under the coffee table?"

Makoto frowns. "Why would I--"

"What do you know, Rei-chan," says Nagisa, looking pleased with himself. "Maybe I did remember to erase it. See, there was nothing to--"

Makoto ducks his head under the coffee table. He spots the writing almost immediately, scratched in pencil on the table's underside. "Rei likes big... oh," he says, cheeks burning. 'Rei likes big cocks'. Nagisa laughs so hard his entire face turns red and he chokes, and Rei tries to flee the room. Twice.

Haru finally looks up, amidst all of the excitement. "You shouldn't have brought it with you," he says, nodding at the mattress. "Didn't we tell you not to? You can't just ignore others' feelings like that, Nagisa."

Nagisa makes a face, finally cutting his hysterical laughter to an end. "Wah, wah, mopey party-pooper Haru, I get it. But your angst cannot contain my happiness tonight, okay? It is just not allowed! Rei," he points a curt finger at his boyfriend, who very nearly flails. "Bring me the schnapps!"

Nagisa, again, is the only one who gets drunk. Makoto sips liberally at the sweet liquid but mainly tries to focus his attention on monitoring his friend's alcohol consumption, just as worried as Rei is that the grabby drunk will become too fond of someone and embarrass himself like he has a history of doing. They chat lightly about exams, Rei telling them all with confidence that he's sure they aced theirs; Nagisa is a little more skeptical, but Rei assures him that with all the studying he made him do, there's no way he could have failed.

It's about an hour and a half into their drinking escapades that Nagisa decides to top his TMI gage. "Do you know why exams are great?" he asks. "Post exam sex. I got laid last night. For like, the first time in two weeks, 'cus my boyfriend's a prude--"

"Nagisa, please," begs Rei, mortified. Nagisa grins and leans over to peck his cheek.

"Aw, baby, I didn't mean... hey, Haru-chan, what about you? You gotten... y'know, like, laid recently?"

Don't look over. Don't look over. Don't look-- Makoto turns his head to look at Haru. He is looking away, mouth hidden into his glass, cheeks flushed. "No," he says simply.

Nagisa cackles. " _Virgiiiin._ " At that, Rei shoots him a look; Nagisa holds up both hands in defense. "I'm kidding, I'm- Haru- _chan_ , you must want to get laid, right?"

Haru's gaze crashes with Makoto's, blue on green, and Makoto has to resist the urge to visibly swallow. "I don't know," says Haru simply, not tearing his gaze away. "I suppose so. Don't all guys want that?"

"Actually, a perfectly reasonable amount of men these days identify as asexual, and an even greater number just don't enjoy sex all that much so..." Rei starts rattling off statistics, but Makoto doesn't listen. Haru still hasn't dropped his gaze. He still hasn't dropped Haru's gaze. It's deep blue-black, the ocean at midnight, the colour of the sky at two in the morning swallowed up whole by the black of his pupils. He looks rabid, Makoto thinks, but the thought dissipates after a while as Haru blinks and his eyes return to perfect normality, perfect innocence, as if Makoto imagined the whole thing. He shifts in his seat, feeling almost like a pervert for reading too much into the eye contact. Haru shifts his blue gaze over to Nagisa as if their stare off never happened and says, "Nagisa, you're drunk. You should be leaving."

"Whaaaaat? I'm not... okay, even if I  _am_  durk... drunk... lol." He says it exactly like that. 'Lol', out loud. Seeing the look on Haru's face, Nagisa immediately flies into a fit of panic. "Haru-chan can't kick me out! It's child abuse."

"It's not," says Haru. "You're an adult. Act like it."

"Haru," Makoto pleads, embarrassed. He looks over to Rei. "You can both stay the night, if you want to."

"No, they can't."

" _Haru_ \--"

"Your boyfriend's being mean, Mako-chan--"

"They are going to try and have sex in our apartment if we let them stay."

Makoto looks incredulously to Nagisa, who isn't trying to deny it. If anything the boy looked smug at the accusation. Makoto lets out a sigh. "Still, I don't want to send you out in the cold..."

"We'll be fine," says Rei. "I'll get him home safe. Thank you very much for the offer anyway, Makoto-senpai." He doesn't look at Haru.

Makoto sees them both out, with Haru trailing noncommittally behind. Nagisa continues to spout nonsense about how rude his friends are for kicking him out, how he's not even drunk and how he "wouldn't have been able to sex Rei up anyway, he doesn't like doing it when I'm drunk."

Makoto shuts the door behind them after finding out in good faith Rei's actual plan to get them both home safely. (One which includes taking Nagisa back to his house and "most likely tying him up so that he doesn't try anything inappropriate." "Kinky, Rei-chan." "We're leaving right now.") A new problem arises, however, as soon as the door shuts: the tension between Haru and Makoto. Though it had never been a pressing matter before moving in together, Makoto reasons-- they had been alone together on more than a few occasions and perfectly content with this; it was as easy as breathing by the time they were eighteen-- since school started up (and since Makoto started having these... feelings) the silence has been like lead.

"So..." says Makoto, unsure of how else to approach the matter. Haru makes a face at his awkward attempt at starting a conversation.

"What are we meant to do with this mattress?" says Haru, jerking his head at it. Makoto chews his lip.

"You take it," he says on a whim. Haru's head whips up, incredulously.

"Don't be dumb."

"I'm not. You said your mattress is having problems, right?" Haru makes a face, most likely thinking of the dingy, worn out thing he's sleeping on. To call it a 'mattress' is actually a gross overstatement; it's barely a bag of springs.

"It... doesn't matter," says Haru, apparently deciding on the matter. "I can deal with it. It wouldn't be fair if I got a brand new queen sized mattress, and you got..." he trails off. A bag of springs with a duvet.

"I really don't mind," insists Makoto, trying to catch the other's eye with what he hopes is a reassuring smile. "There's no point in letting it go to waste. Besides, it's not brand new; it's Nagisa's."

Haru makes a face, probably thinking-- like Makoto is trying not to-- about all the unspeakably horrible things Nagisa has almost certainly done with Rei-- and alone-- on the mattress. Makoto represses the urge to openly shudder at the thought of their friends, but Haru, taking a moment to think about it, gives in with a hunch of his shoulders.

"Fine," he says. "If you change your mind, tell me, and you can have it. It's not a big deal."

He bends down to hoist the thing off of the ground, obviously struggling. Makoto stands helpless watching Haru, clad this evening in a form-fitting shirt and jeans-- oh lord-- strain himself to drag the mattress to his room. He breaks after about five seconds.

"Let me help."

"It's fine--"

"Haruka." Haru shuts up with a tight jaw, refusing to meet Makoto's eyes. He must be able to feel them; the intense green of them, Makoto knows, hard on the edge of his face. The room is more grey than blue tonight.

Haru doesn't put up a fight this time as Makoto moves to help him, taking most of the weight and lifting it above hip-level. Haru takes the front, ducking his head so that his hair falls in his eyes. Makoto tries not stare-- it's invasive to stare, he thinks, even if Haru's shirt _is_ riding up just enough to show a sliver of his stomach, and the skin underneath is smooth and taut over the tension of his muscles...

Makoto tears his gaze away and tries to focus on just carrying the mattress. Moments later they make it through Haru's bedroom's doorway, dumping the huge thing pretty unceremoniously onto the floor. Makoto helps him drag the old one out, leaving it at the front of their apartment to be dealt with later.

"So," he says again, because it's his way of trying to dissolve the tension in the room. The tips of Haru's ears have gone pink.

"So," Haru repeats, gently. Makoto can't stop looking at him. It's this room, he thinks, because that has to be it-- the way the light streams in, blue or grey-- the way the shadows under Haru's eyes become so prominent, how his lips look so soft. He realises he's staring again right around the time Haru does; clearing his throat, he tries to feign innocence by pointing at his own mouth and saying, "You, uh. Have a bit of food on your face."

Haru looks a little surprised, but reaches up to wipe the corner of his mouth nonetheless. Oh God, Makoto thinks--his long fingers tug at the soft skin on his face, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

"It's gone," says Makoto, but his voice comes out raspy.

Neither of them try to break the next silence that weaves its way between them. It feels like forever and a day before Haru, with all the grace and finality of a freight train, says, "I have a thing tomorrow night."

"A thing?" asks Makoto.

Haru's voice doesn't waver. "A date thing."

"O-oh," says Makoto, trying not to let his emotions show in his tone. He thinks it does anyway; when Haru looks up, all deep blue eyes and innocence, he quickly twists his mouth into what he hopes looks like a genuine smile. "Haru, that's..." Awful. Horrible. Soul-crushing. You're supposed to love _me_ , you idiot. I've wanted you for so long-- I've been here beside you for so long. "That's great! To be honest with you, I didn't know you were interested in that kind of thing."

His blue eyes turn positively black. "I'm not," mutters Haru, dropping his gaze again. He sounds... offended? Kind of sad? _Angry?_ Makoto can't put his finger on the emotion. Then what--

Haru starts towards him. Makoto feels his limbs lock in place at the feeling of his personal space being breached, however used to it he would have thought he is. Without breaking the perfect eye contact he has suddenly fathomed between the two of them, Haru continues to back Makoto up until he is mere inches from pressing their chests together. "Makoto," he says.

Makoto stares and Haru stares back. It should make a world of difference, with the height he has on him, but it doesn't; for all Makoto feels, Haru could be perfectly at eye level with him. Something in his gaze holds Makoto.

"Haru," he says back, unable to say anything else, and then, because he is stupid, he looks at his mouth.

Haru _smiles._  "Makoto," he says again, getting closer. Makoto can't remember how to breathe. Or how to think. Are his palms sweating?

"Makoto," Haru says again, like he is going to say something else. But he doesn't get the chance to, because someone starts banging their fist on the apartment door.

Haru and Makoto break away from each other at the exact same time to start for the door. It's as if they're looking for an excuse to; and they are, Makoto realises, as soon as Haru drops his gaze and all his rational self comes crashing back down. His heart is still thudding noisily away in his chest. What was  _that?_

Haru wrenches the door open so suddenly that it very nearly comes off the hinges; to no one's surprise in any way, shape or form, Nagisa and Rei are on the other side, looking sheepish and tired.

"We actually may have... ah, read the train time tables wrong. The next one isn't for another two hours. Would you mind terribly if we slept here tonight?"

 

 

Haru minds.

Makoto can  _tell_ that he minds, despite the fact that his brain is all fuzzy and his mind is all over the place. It is a secret to none that Haru is brooding, refusing to make himself useful or helpful in any way; already, the effects of all the schnapps Nagisa had ingested is fading, being quickly replaced by a sleepy dizziness and fragile attitude. Nagisa is a needy drunk. Within minutes of his sobering realisation that he won't be returning to the dark, quiet comforts of his boyfriend's bedroom any time soon, he's crawling into said boyfriend's lap, whining quietly for Makoto to please bring him water and other various apparent panaceas; like strawberry milk, which they definitely did not have sitting in the fridge, because _seriously,_ Nagisa doesn't live there.

"But whyyyy," Nagisa moans, too drawn out to be a question. Haru, who had gone back to reading his book in the corner of the room like a petulant child, snaps it shut.

"You're being a child," he says. His voice is as sharp as nails. Nagisa, still wrapped up in Rei-- who has suddenly found himself so deep in mama bear mode that he actually outright  _glares_ at Haru-- lifts his head to pout vaguely in Haru's direction. _  
_

"Hey," he says. "You're just-" a pause to hiccup. "You're just jealous, because _I_ get all this attention from my lovely boyfriend, while you sit over there and  _pine._ "

"I'm not pining," Haru retorts. Then he looks back at his book, apparently done with arguing. Nagisa isn't.

"You are," he says. He makes an attempt to get up from Rei's lap; Rei holds him in place, trying belligerently to stroke his hair into a lulling calmness. Like it would a cat, it works on Nagisa.

"Just..." he waves a hand. "Jealous. Jealous, jealous, jealous Haru-chan. Heh. I kind of like this look on you. Green  _suits_ Haru-cha--"

"Green is for envy, and not for jealousy," Haru says, snapping his book shut again. "And I'm not jealous of Rei."

Rei begins to sputter; Nagisa laughs over the top of him, before the vertigo can retake its place and cut the sound short, which it does. "I know you're not jealous of  _Rei,_ you dumb. You're jealous because of the situation. Or... is that envious? Which one's which?"

"Nagisa, you should go to sleep," soothes Rei, pushing back some of the hair on his forehead to kiss it; it's actually quite cute, in an endearing, gross-little-brothers way. Makoto stirs the hot drinks he's preparing and watches idly from the kitchen.

"You're just  _envious_ because I actually confessed to my crush."

And that about does it. Haru stands, book still in hand, and without sparing even a single glance at his other friends, turns to Makoto. "I'm going to bed," he says. "Thank you for making me a drink, but I'm tired." He doesn't say 'goodnight'. The door slams shut behind him like the tolling of a funeral bell, and immediately, everyone falls silent.

Makoto expects Nagisa to start cackling. He definitely doesn't expect him to burst into tears.

"N-Nagisa-" Rei stammers, losing his composure. Even Makoto can't keep the shock from his face. Not knowing what to do, he grabs two of the steaming mugs of hot chocoalate he was preparing and rushes them over to his friends, spilling some on his shirt in the process. Still crying, Nagisa takes one of the mugs and starts sipping from it, rolling tears and all.

"Do you really think I upset Haru-chan?" he manages after quiet some time. If it's possible, Makoto's eyebrows fly up even higher on his head.

"Huh-- is that what you're crying about?"

"I took things too far, didn't I?" He sniffs into his sleeve; it's gross, but Rei looks hopelessly endeared, albeit still concerned as he is. "I was just...  _teasing,_ you know, because he likes you so much, and you like  _him_ so much, and--"

"Nagisa!" Makoto pleads, eyes flying to Haru's door. Nagisa waves a hand.

"Oh, he can't hear me anyway. And even if he could, so what? He  _knows._ _Everyone_ knows. I was just... having some fun, I swear. Do you think he's really angry?"

Makoto honestly thinks it through, eyes still on Haru's bedroom door. It's nearly black with the shadows of the hallway; after a moment, he tears his gaze back to Nagisa. "A little. But he's Haru-chan, he'll get over it; I don't think anyone could stay mad at you for too long."

"My record is about three days," Rei points out. Then reconsiders. "A week tops."

"You mean like that time we didn't have sex for a week because I called you a--"

" _Regarldess,_ " Rei interrupts. "Makoto-senpai is right. Besides, he was..." Rei looks uncomfortable. "Forgive me if this comes across as rude, Makoto-senpai, but Haruka-senpai was... rather rude, this evening. To both myself and Nagisa. Has something upset him?"

Makoto tries to think of what it could be. Come to think of it, Haru  _has_ been more tense than usual... even before their whole weird, intimate encounter prior to Rei and Nagisa showing back up on their doorstep. A thought occurs to Makoto. "He has a date tomorrow night."

Nagisa chokes on his hot chocolate. Actually chokes.

" _What?_ "

"That's what he told me."

"With a  _girl?_ "

Makoto shrugs, honestly. As calmly as he is trying to play it off, his hands are shaking. Visibly.

"What did you  _say,_ Mako-chan?"

"I said, um." He can't actually remember what he said. Like at all. "I think I told him I was proud of him. And good luck, and all that."

Nagisa looks so outright disappointed that Makoto's stomach sinks. Even  _Rei_ looks disapproving. 

"Makoto Tachibana, you are positively the worst at flirting in the  _world._ Maybe even worse than Haru-chan."

"I-I'm sorry?"

"He was  _playing_ you." Nagisa's eyes are sparkling.

"Nagisa," he says warningly. "I think you're reading too far into this. Anyway, it was just--"

"Like  _monopoly,_ oh my gosh, I have to tell Gou-chan about this." His eyes haven't stopped shining. Far from crying now, Nagisa looks right on the seat of absolute bliss. "Mako-chan, you can't tell me you don't know what kind of game he's playing at!"

If Makoto's blank stare is anything to go off of.

Nagisa grabs both of his hands. "Don't you see? He's trying to make you jealous."

" _Jealous?_ " Makoto blanches. Rei looks mildly confused, but not altogether opposed to the idea; Makoto figures that after spending so much time with Nagisa, the boy would be open to pretty much everything.

"I can't believe he's trying this," Nagisa says, shaking his head. "Such a dumb trick. I tried  _that one_ on Rei-chan once, and let me tell you, it only ended in disaster. Well, disaster, and I couldn't walk straight for about three days. So I guess there's always a light at the end of the tunnel.  _But,_ the point here is that Haru-chan does so obviously like you back, and now you totally have to make a move."

"A-a move," he stammers, at loss for words. "Nagisa, I'm not sure if--"

" _Trust_ me," the other grates, practically on the edge of Rei's lap now with the intensity of his words and hand holding, "just play along with Haru's little game,  _make a move,_ and everything will go your way. I guarantee it."

Makoto stares back at him. It's confronting, having his hands squeezed like this against his will, and even though their voices are hushed and there's no way Haru could hear them from all the way down the hall, his heart is still hammering in his chest at double capacity. "...You guarantee it?"

"Yes!"

"Well...I guess..." Makoto sighs. He is ultimately, completely, 100% going to regret this.

"What do you recommend I do?"


End file.
